The Making of Tragedy
by Nerva al'Thor
Summary: -Oneshot- If one's hatred for Innocence is so great, this hatred can give rise to a Noah of terrible abilities...


The rainwater was cold and biting against Allen Walker's suit. He had not thought of bringing an umbrella with him, but that did not mean that he had stopped paying attention to weather forecasts. The clouds were a dark gray, roiling mass above his head, and somewhere lightning flashed golden for a precious few seconds, to be followed by the rumble of thunder – a distant, dull and loud boom. He had brought with him a bouquet of red zinnias, bought earlier as he biked toward this particular location.

It had been a year.

He could still remember everything vividly in his head. He had been remembering at that time too. He remembered Suman and his terrible fate, but given the circumstances, Suman had no choice, and Suman had been cornered. Suman never gave his full loyalty to the Black Order because his family had it, first and foremost. He never gave his Innocence all of his loyalty. Allen remembered how Suman's monstrous form reared up in China, that ugly white thing, a huge humanoid torso with tentacles, and on its chest was the Fallen, forsaken by Innocence and judged by god.

Allen had never thought that Innocence could create such monsters. The sudden limits to his knowledge about the Black Order had been appalling. He had not known then that Linali had once been very close to Falling herself. He had never bothered to ask. That was his problem. That had been their entire problem. They never asked. And now they were regretting it.

Allen crouched down and placed the soaked bouquet of zinnias at the foot of the grave marker. It had no name, like the countless others in this cemetery. It was a plain, squarish post made of cement, gray and sad, like the rain clouds above his head. Lavi had fought hard for the right to bury their friend, arguing even with Malcolm de Leverrier against the traditional cremation. For Lavi it was an insult. There was nothing left to burn; the Innocence had taken care of everything else. There was simply nothing left when it was all over.

When that Fallen had reared up above them, Allen had suddenly felt everything click inside his head. All the pieces finally came to place. He had remembered the hourglass at that time too. He had sneaked into Kanda's room just once, and that had been the only thing of interest to him. He remembered how the hourglass glowed with a light of its own, that lotus suspended in its upper half, shedding petals. The flower. The petals. It told of time. A time limited that had been ticking right under their noses.

He could feel his cheeks warm, and it wasn't the rain. It had been a year, yet he still wept. He guessed his friend meant more to him than what he'd let on. Lavi was moving on just fine. Linali, he wasn't so sure. For Allen, it hurt the most because he was the last to know. And he hated it.

--

Rhode Kamelot was not interested in the music and the lights that currently made Schloss Leopoldskron seem like a shining star in the city of Salzburg, Austria. She shifted uncomfortably in her lace gown, the enormous ribbon around her neck suddenly very itchy. She could not remove it, for it meant removing her ridiculous headdress, and she needed to keep her hair under it until at least the dancing was over.

She puffed in annoyance; her blood lollipops had ran out and she needed to amuse herself. She looked around in the glittering crowd, smiling cynically at the humans dancing with the Akuma, sneering at the ladies in their dresses and raising her eyebrows at the crisp-looking men in their suits and ties.

They weren't her crowd, no matter what Cyril thought.

"Your make-up would melt faster than cake frosting if you keep frowning like that, _onee-sama_."

Rhode whipped around at the sound of the soft-spoken sentence, excited grin already in place. She found her 'brother' standing behind her, looking crisp and well pressed himself. His suit was dark, dark enough to rival his long, long hair, which he kept from his face with a white silk ribbon that Lulubell had provided. He had a single white rose in his breast pocket, which he took and tucked above her left ear. Rhode giggled and pretended to preen.

"Now do I look pretty?" she laughed.

"Prettier than the rest." Her brother said, bowing elegantly, a fluid bending of the spine. He extended a gloved hand. "May I have this dance?"

She surveyed him with a grin. He was as suave, if not more so, than Tyki or Dylan. And, like them, he was outstandingly pretty, with that slight build of his. He stood straight, his hands always politely gloved at his side or behind his back. His hair was the same, extraordinarily long for a boy, reaching past his waist if left to its own devices. His face was slightly oval in shape, still pale, his eyes sharp gray when not in their glorious golden color.

He was a younger version of his white half. A perfect mockery, in fact.

"I will be honored," Rhode replied and took the offered hand. His gloves her soft against her own lace ones. He swept her toward the floor easily, making the people drop what they were doing. The musicians stopped playing their chamber music and waited for what dance they wanted.

"Ah!" Cyril's voice carried in the room. "It seems my son and daughter wants to waltz!"

The musicians promptly obeyed, the sound flowing easily from their instruments. His movements were slow and graceful, and Rhode, surprisingly for her nature, kept up quite easily.

"Where is Tyki?" she'd asked him as he danced her away.

"Probably eating the carps." He replied, making her laugh.

"Do we even have carps here, Kyuuya?"

"I don't know, but the Duke might have sent some."

"Dylan? Have you seen Dylan?"

"He might have retreated to the library again, onee-sama."

Rhode giggled again as she twirled around and was caught up in his arms. "Kyuuya, remember, you should not call me onee-sama in public. You're supposed to be the elder child, the firstborn son. You are not Kyuuya Noriyo in public, but Edward Kamelot, the son of Prime Minister Cyril Kamelot, a fresh student from the University in Madrid, and we are holding this dance because of your homecoming."

Her statement merited a small frown.

"Edward is a stupid name." He said.

"But Kyuuya doesn't go well with Kamelot either, don't you think?" She laughed.

"…point taken." He replied as he swept her in a graceful arc.

--

Tyki Mikk was in fact not eating carps. He was hiding by the balcony, tired and exasperated, wondering why he was putting up again with these ridiculous balls that the Earl organized now and then. It was a farce, of course. It was to entice the leaders and monarchs of the world to make more war upon themselves, and by doing so they raised funds and helped the Earl build more Akuma plants. It was troublesome, this. Tyki would rather a good poker match by the hearth, playing to his heart's content until the wee hours of the morning.

He watched as Kyuuya and Rhode danced, mesmerizing the crowd easily. You'd think those two's pheromones were drugs. As Cyril often joked nowadays, his and Dylan's time as the Noah's prettiest assets were over. Their younger brother simply outshone them both, dressed like that. Tyki could almost hear the ladies' twittering. _Oh how gorgeous he is! Oh how refined his manners are! Oh, how fluent is his German and Spanish and French! Oh he would look perfect with my daughter! Oh he would look perfect with me!_

Pure, ridiculous nonsense.

At least it meant he got to attend lesser of these stupid parties. Kyuuya would cover all the work for him and Dylan eventually. The Pleasure of Noah lit a cigarette stick and smoked, taking a long drag and eventually puffing out smoke rings into the warm, night air. He gave a start as applause rang from the party crowd, signaling the dance's end.

_And Kyuuya scores another point in the publicity department._

Hah. If only they knew how violent that kid could get. Kyuuya had the face of an angel and the murderous urge of the Earl. It was a hard year's work just to be able to tame him from the growling, clawing savage that Rhode had brought home to this impeccably-mannered young teenager of fourteen. Tyki could still remember how Kyuuya had launched himself at David and tore out the guy's eyes with his own hands. There was black blood everywhere. David was screaming in agony, his voice lost with Kyuuya's maddened howls. It had taken him, Cyril and Dylan to bodily tear the mess of clawing bodies apart.

The boy was still terribly reactive to the presence of Innocence. Even Rhode did not yet trust sending him out in the field, even after a year of trapping him in her Dream to expose him to Innocence and to somehow reduce his reactions. He might even kill himself. Even a whiff of Innocence could drive Kyuuya to a murderous fit. Once he was lost in the throes of the rage of the Noah, he simply destroyed anything he could lay his hands on. He stopped distinguishing siblings from foes. He was a threat, even to the family.

Kyuuya's powers were another matter entirely. A shadow of his white half's abilities – he could alter reality in a set range around himself. There was no known measure to counter this. Even Rhode admitted that she was vulnerable. Heck, even the Earl would be in danger if he was in range.

_Illusions._

Tyki lit a second cigarette and puffed away. Well, they could not keep imprisoning their youngest sibling forever. The Earl had no plans to not unleash such a monster against those troublesome Exorcists. With Kyuuya's abilities, they were sure to turn the tables. The thought made Tyki grin. If those pesky Exorcists saw Kyuuya, how would they take to it? They had to be blind if they would not be able to recognize Kyuuya's oh-so-pretty features.

He could already imagine Allen Walker's horrified face.

Lovely.

_Very_ lovely.

--

So they were setting out, and finally the Earl had given him free reign. Kyuuya listened quietly to the Earl's instructions, half-hidden behind his elder brothers Tyki and Dylan. They were to tackle one Exorcist general each. He was going back to his beloved Spain, against whoever was there. He had not bothered to listen to the names. They were all the same to him. Exorcists had Innocence, and anything with Innocence deserved to be destroyed.

Innocence destroyed him. Hence, Innocence was unforgivable.

He felt Tyki's hand on his shoulder. Kyuuya looked up to find his brother grinning down at him, cigarette stuck between his teeth.

"What can I say? Your first field work. Pretty exciting, huh?" Tyki said.

Dylan made no comment, but the Puppeteer of Noah was also staring down at him.

"How can it be exciting, brother," Dylan spoke softly. "When Kyuuya has been through countless battles even before this? Only, he was standing at the other side then."

He just looked up quietly at the two of them.

"So, Kyuuya, you're going to be quite alone." Tyki continued. "You sure you won't go mistake yourself for the enemy?"

"He better." Dylan added.

Kyuuya just nodded. He had a better grip on himself now. Being exposed to Rhode's Dream did its job. He was yet to apologize to the twins, especially to David. At least David got his eyes back.

"Remember, Kyuuya. In a battle, you're supposed to have fun. If we get a job well done here, I'll be treating you to caramel apples. Dylan's paying."

"What? I thought you said it was your treat!" Dylan said in outrage, blinking at Tyki.

"Anyway, we should get going."

Kyuuya turned on his heels and teleported away.

--

Allen squinted in the darkness, but even his night-trained eyes discerned nothing in the swirling shadows that had suddenly blinded him. He was aware of himself, but himself only. Everything had disappeared, to be replaced by impenetrable cold and this deep dark. He could hear his own breath harsh in his ears. He was growing tired. Eliminating that much Akuma with a level 4 in tow got the best part of him. Now, this darkness.

He was aware that he was being watched. But he could not sense the source of this darkness. No matter how he attuned his senses, there was nothing. His ears were blank. His nose could not smell anything beyond his own scent. His eyes…well his eyes were practically useless. He could not attack recklessly. He had to conserve what amount of energy he had left.

Allen felt a drop of sweat fall from his chin. But he did not sense nor hear the drop hit an identifiable ground. There was nothing but blackness.

_What is your greatest fear, Exorcist?_

A voice. A voice as clear as a bell. Allen whipped around, trying to discern the direction where the voice came from. But there was nothing. His senses were screwed. His hearing fluctuating. His nose was suddenly rendered useless.

The darkness in front of Allen Walker swirled. He raised his Innocence at the ready for his foe. The shadows swirled, writhed and twisted, and started having form. First came an arm, and then a leg, and then a torso. The hair seemed to be part of the eternal black, materializing out of it as if it had a life of its own. The black gave way for pale skin. The black gave way for winter gray eyes.

Allen knew those winter gray eyes well. How many times had those same eyes look on him with displeasure and annoyance?

But what caught Allen's attention were the seven distinct crosses on the boy's forehead. When the boy finished morphing out of nothing, his skin was gray, his eyes golden and the crosses on his forehead more vivid than ever.

Again Allen remembered the flux of that fateful day. How the blood seeped on the floor where their friend had died, finally surrendering to his death throes. How their friend turned ugly in front of their eyes; how he last all of his gorgeous hair, how blood flowed from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears. How the Fallen cursed the heavens for its bitter end. How he, Lavi and Linali struggled to bring the Fallen down. How the Fallen had finally been consumed by its Innocence, slowly crashing to the ground. How everything, everything of Kanda had burned away…

"Am I your greatest fear, Exorcist?" the Noah smiled.

The scream that escaped Allen's mouth echoed far but reached nowhere.


End file.
